It's quite big, build in the thirties. It has a big garden, and an awesome swimming pool. Adjecent to the pool is a wing that needs some work, it's glass roof has many a broken window, it is filled with greek statues overgrown with plants. The toilet in my bedroom is broken. The house is fully furnished, I don't really like the style. Upstairs there are several bedrooms, nobody slept there for years. But it's most remarkable feature has to be that it doesn't exist. I keep having this dream that it somehow became my property, same place every time. I remember it in detail now that I write this just as I woke up at 3:30. What the que how can I remember such a place in such detail. Almost feels like I have been there in a different life